Losing Control
by mysticmonkey86
Summary: Klaine! Blaine Anderson is trying to adjust to life in the outside world after being locked up for twelve years. Jailed as a 15 year old scared teenager, and free as 27 year old bitter man, can he put his demons behind him and start a new life? And will Kurt Hummel help him on his way? *Klaine! Any reviews would be appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

**Losing Control**

Chapter One

My eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight as a burly prison guard dragged me to the gates and pushed me out. I was a free man. I didn't know how I felt about that. Well, I did. I felt angry. In fact, I had a rage inside me so deep that it wouldn't surprise me if I ended up back inside in a matter of days.

I looked down at the pitiful plastic bag in my hand that contained everything I owned. Two sweaters, four t-shirts, two pairs of trousers, five pairs of underwear , a toothbrush and an expired passport from my teenage years. In my pocket, I had the keys to what would be my home for the foreseeable future. It was some motel where they put criminals on the outskirts of town. Most criminals had somewhere to go back to, but before I was locked up, I had lost everything anyway. So now I was on some sort of shitty programme, trying to rehabilitate myself with the outside world. It was one of the many conditions upon my release which I thought was bullshit. I had served the time, why couldn't they just let me be?

I checked the label on the keys I had been given, noting down the address, I vaguely remembered where the road was from years ago. From before I was left to rot in jail. I started walking, I felt sore. My feet felt weird against the ground, like it was un-natural. Of course , we had been allowed outside for an hour a day , but the ground there was more like what you would get on a tennis court. Like some sort of turf.

Besides what I had in my shitty little bag, I had the clothes I was wearing. My only pair of shoes, black trainers that were falling apart, black trousers with a rip on the right knee cap, and a grubby black t-shirt with bleach marks stained to it from my years of doing cleaning around the jail. Some of us were allowed jobs , if we were in the right frame of mind for it, and I had picked cleaning. I had to do four hours a day scrubbing, bleaching, or wiping whatever they told me to. I wouldn't have bothered with the work, but that few dollars I got a week was my cash for my smokes.

It dawned on me how pathetic my life was when I realised that smoking was probably the only thing that had stopped me killing myself. It was the only joy I had in my life. Every time I would get beaten by a police guard or fellow inmate, or worse, I used to close my eyes and think, when this is all over, I can have a smoke. How pathetic was that?

I kicked a stone as I walked along a main road. Not much had changed since I had been locked up. I would have expected it to look much different, after all , I was only a fifteen year old boy when I went inside. I thought the world would look strange now, at the age of twenty-seven, but it didn't. Twelve years having never seen the outside, and the only thing that had changed were fancier cars driving along the road.

It must have been lies when people said they walked out of prison and smelt the fresh air and skipped along happily, it was all bullshit. I didn't want to do any of that. I felt weird out here. I knew I didn't belong to this noisy, polluted world, the problem was, I didn't really belong anywhere. I kept my head down, brushing a hand through my unruly black curls as I walked for ten minutes down a long stretch of road.

Then I had to turn down a narrow street and walk through an alleyway. As I walked down, two huge men covered in tattoo's and both bald, were snorting something up their nose. I looked down at the ground, I learnt years ago never to look anyone in the eye, and no doubt these were ex convicts so I made doubly sure to avoid them.

Their frames were massive as I squeezed by them, struggling not to touch either as I made my way through.

"Oh, look what we have here… a newbie."

I carried on walking as they cursed at me for ignoring them. No matter how angry they got, or how close they came, the key was always, _always _keep your head down. I honestly couldn't count the beatings I had in the first few years of being locked up just for looking at someone. Sometimes, I got beat so bad , that I lay there, covered in my own blood, convinced I was dying. I prayed for it. I prayed to just be wiped out by one of the brutes. You learnt to toughen up as the years went on, but every day was pure hell.

The thugs voices were soon drowned out as I walked into the parking lot of the motel. I looked at the shabby brown building with disgust. The place was such a dive it made jail look like a five-star hotel. Jesus. I walked to the grim-looking front entrance, to be greeted by a miserable skinny woman who looked like she wasn't a day under eighty. I had been told to check in, which was annoying as I had the keys and the room number, but now I was out , I was technically still under the authorities care as I had nowhere else to go, so I had to follow the rules.

"Blaine Anderson."

My voice sounded croaky as I gave my name to the woman. I wasn't used to talking, and every time I did , it seemed like an effort.

She grunted at me, then turned her back to get something out of a filing cabinet. She slammed some papers and books on a desk in front of me.

"Take this pile to your room to read, and sign these two papers which I keep here. Any trouble, you will be out on your ear, which if I had it my way, you would be. Scum like you belong on the streets. "

I snatch the pen off the desk, taking the lid off with my teeth and spitting it on the floor. The old woman raised an eyebrow and looked at me with contempt. I signed the papers, I had already signed exact replicas in jail before they released me. Until I was making my own money and could rent my own place, I had to stay here and live by the rules, which included being back in my room every night by ten, treating the place with respect, and attending all courses I had agreed to do.

It was the last thing I wanted to do, but the chances of getting a job with no grades or qualifications were next to zero, so I had to sign up for some shitty courses just to no doubt get a minimum paid wage in some dead end job for the rest of my life, and treated like garbage by people like the old wrinkled woman who was still staring at me as I signed my name.

I grabbed the books I had to take and walked out of the grimy office, slamming the door shut behind me. Then I climbed one set of stairs to get to my room. Number 97. I unlocked the door and nearly gagged at the smell. It was like somebody had died in here or something. They probably had. I went straight over to the tiny square window, opening it up as wide as I could.

It really was hardly any better than a cell. A tiny rickety wooden bed with a thin mattress and wiry , itchy looking blankets, a broken chest of draws and a tiny toilet/shower room that was barely big enough to stand in properly. I groaned, sitting on the bed, staring at the books I had to read. They contained information about the courses I would be doing, and they all looked boring as fuck. I had been made to take two educational/learning ones and a physical one. In the end I chose mathematics, a media studies course and for the physical, mechanics.

The two learning ones would be three days a week for the next year, Maths in the morning, Media Studies in the afternoon. The mechanics course would be on the other two days and take two years. So in all likelihood , I probably wouldn't be able to get a job for a year, therefore, I was stuck here, in this fucking shit hole. I wouldn't be able to afford to save anything from the measly weakly grant I would be getting until I found my own work, hell, I didn't even know if I would be able to feed myself every day after I had paid for electricity for the place and cigarettes.

I closed my eyes, leaning back on the bed , my arms in a makeshift pillow for my head and groaned. The bed in my cell had been more comfy than this , and at least I got three meals a day back there. I would have to scrimp and save every penny to just have one meal a day if I were lucky. If this was 'the real world' then they could take it the fuck back.

_**I arrived home from school that day full of cheer. I couldn't quite believe my luck. I had received four valentines cards in class. Four! It was more than anyone else had gotten. I supposed it was because they were all at an awkward age right now. Thirteen was a weird age to confess your feelings, it was like a weird half way stop. When you were younger, it was deemed cute to send cards, and when you were older, like sixteen plus, it was romantic, but at this age, it was just a bit embarrassing.**_

_**I shut the front door, running in to find my Mom. I couldn't wait to show her the cards. I had always been close with my Mom, and I think having such a good relationship with her had made me a bit of a charmer in school, and won me some admirers.**_

_**I walk into the kitchen, finding my Mom sat at the table. My heart sank as I realised that she still didn't look very well. She was usually the life and soul of everything, and had a nursing job which she loved. But a few weeks ago, she had a tumble down the stairs, and hadn't been herself since. She didn't break anything, and she didn't go and get it checked out. She said as she was a nurse , she knew what she was looking out for. I worried in case she had damaged herself internally, but she patted my head like I was five and said no, she said that if that were the case then she probably would have died that very night if they had left internal injuries not seen to.**_

_**I throw my bag down on the floor, and take a seat at the table.**_

_**"Hey Blainey days! How was school?" I rolled my eyes affectionately at the nickname, she would never grow out of calling me that. Then I watched with worried eyes as she done her usual routine to make me a pb+j sandwich. She clutched her side in pain as she reached to get something in the fridge.**_

_**"Mom, sit down. I am thirteen, not thirteen months, I am capable of making my own sandwich. "**_

_**"We went through this yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. I like making your sandwiches. Now stop grumbling and tell me about school."**_

_**I launched in to the tale about my four cards, grinning as I filled her in on the details.**_

_**She slid the plate with my sandwich over to me, and started making us both a cup of tea.**_

_**"So, are these cards from girls or…. ?"**_

_**I looked up at my Mom nervously. She gave me a reassuring smile. She just seemed to have always known I was different. I don't know how, she just did. And she accepted it, no questions asked. I had never told her of course, I mean… I was so young, I couldn't be certain I was gay at this age… could I?**_

_**I take a bite of the sandwich.**_

_**"Two girls , two boys."**_

_**She smiled at my answer, looking satisfied with herself for somehow knowing there were more to the cards then met the eye. We both jumped as the home phone rang out loud and clear. We kept one upstairs and one down here. She grabbed the cordless phone from the kitchen counter, her hot tea on the other hand.**_

_**"Hello, Anderson household speaking?"**_

_**I tried not to laugh at her voice. My older brother Cooper, Dad and I always took the mick out of her 'phone voice' . She liked to try and sound posh.**_

_**I watched as the colour drained from her face. Somehow, I couldn't force another bite of sandwich down. I walked over to her, looking anxiously into her eyes as she stared right through me while still listening to the other person on the line. Then she hung the phone up, placed it on the counter next to her, and looked at me, her cup of tea spilling over as her hands shook.**_

_**"That was the hospital. My colleagues wanted to inform me before the police come round that my husband was in a car accident this afternoon."**_

_**I feel sick, I could feel the sandwich about to come back up any second. She put a hand on my arm, and rubbed gently.**_

_**"There is no easy way to say this Blaine but…. Your Dad is dead. He's…. he's gone."**_

_**I shake my head, taking a step back from her.**_

_**She drops her hot drink on the floor, then collapses into the burning liquid and broken shards, screaming like something out of a nightmare. I knew right then that I would remember that scream forever.**_

-  
I jump as a knock on the door wakes me. I must have fallen asleep. I blinked hard, trying to get my bearings. Where the fuck was I? I glance at the small wide open window and the broken chest of draws and sigh, pushing myself up from the bed and rubbing my eyes. That's right, I was in hell. I remembered now.

I groan as the door bangs again, if it was that grumpy bitch from the office, then I couldn't give a fuck if she chucked me out, she would be getting a piece of my mind. Surely she got the vibe that I wanted to be left alone? She had no right knocking on my door.

I growl, standing up, lighting a smoke and sucking on it like I hadn't had one in years. I needed it after that dream. I stumbled over my plastic bag of shit I had left on the floor.

"Fuck." I curse, kicking it to the other side of the room.

As I open the door expecting to see the gnarly bitch from downstairs, my eyes widen in surprise. In front of me, stood a young man with perfectly quaffed light brown hair and sparkly blue eyes. He had a huge smile on his face, whether it was fake or genuine, I couldn't tell. He was wearing the most ugly suit I had ever seen. It was a light brown with random patches of colour here and there, and on the jacket was a disgusting Hippopotamus broach.

He also had a badge pinned to the other side that said "Authority Personnel" , which I thought was ridiculous because it could have meant anything. He had a black briefcase in one hand, and the other hand was held out for me to shake. I stared at him in confusion, the cigarette hanging out of my mouth.

"Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel ."


	2. Chapter 2

**Losing Control**

Chapter 2

I took the cigarette from my mouth, blowing the smoke away from his face. He looked at me in disgust as I took another drag, and refused to shake his hand. I waited for him to speak again. There were two reasons for that. The first being because I didn't want to speak to him, the second was that my voice seemed to ache whenever I spoke nowadays. I just wasn't used to chit-chat. It hurt me. It annoyed me. I didn't want it.

"May I come in ?"

I stayed put, blocking the doorway. Until he gave me a valid reason as to why he was here, I didn't want to know. His smile grew as he realised I wasn't going to budge, and he just shrugged his shoulders.

"Never mind, we can sort some stuff out here, It's fine."

He bent down to get something out of the briefcase. I couldn't help but notice his ass as he bent down. I had been locked up for years, and I had to appreciate something new to look at after all this time. His cheeks turned slightly pink as he caught me looking. He straightened back up, clearing his throat and handed me a pile of books.

I threw them on the other pile of books that old woman at the office had given me.

"So… You're not going to look at them? OK , well, let me explain who I am and what I do. From now on, I am your 'person' ."

I blinked at this. What the fuck?

"Excuse me?"

My voice yet again was croaky. Maybe now I was outside I had to work on that. His smile never faltered as his blue eyes stared straight at me.

"I have been assigned to you. To help you get used to life on the outside. I will be here to help with whatever problems you have and make sure you attend everything you signed up for."

I chuck my smoke on the ground , and fold my arms across my chest as I looked at him blankly.

"So you are my babysitter?"

He laughs, it was a nice sound. It was a sound I hadn't heard for years. Only the cruel, mocking laughter from a thug as I lay on a cold hard floor bleeding from his latest beating. That was the only laughter I had heard.

"I wouldn't quite call myself a babysitter no, just a friendly , helpful person at your assistance." His smile grew and he actually saluted. What was his deal? I couldn't bear the happiness radiating from him.

"They send someone like you to go help hardened criminals out? Wow, how many times have they beat the shit out of you. Or worse?"

My voice wasn't as croaky on this last sentence. He frowned at me.

"Never actually. Mr Anderson, if you don't mind, we really need to go over some details about our weekly meetings and…"

I shut the door in his face. I couldn't be bothered with it. As if being in this shit hole wasn't bad enough, they had sent an unnaturally happy puppy dog to 'look after me' .

I collapsed back on to my bed, using my arms as a pillow , looking up to the ceiling. The banging on my door started up again. I ignored it.

Just as I thought he had went away, my fury rose as I heard some keys jangle outside , and a second later, he had entered my room, closing the door behind him. I leapt of my bed, ready to beat the shit out of him.

"I get it, you are one of those ' I have been so wronged, I am so misunderstood' type of guys. I come across people like you every day. It's my job. And it won't wash with me."

I raise an eyebrow at him, sitting back down on my bed.

"You are mistaken. I'm one of those ' Done the crime, done my time, and if you continue to bother me I don't mind doing another long stretch in prison' type of guys actually."

It was weird, the guy looked so delicate, so proper, but he wasn't scared. I was one of the calmer criminals. I was easy going compared to most I had come across. It was a wonder he hadn't been killed yet if this was how he acted around people like us, barging into the rooms when he had no business.

He picks up my plastic bag of belongings and starts folding them all up, putting them in my bedside cabinet. It was the only place in the dismal room they could have possibly gone.

"If it will make you feel better , go for it. But seeing as you haven't made a move to kick my face in yet , I will take my chances. As you may have gathered, I have keys for everyone I have been assigned to, and trust me Mr Anderson, I have been dealing with people way worse than you and twice your size. You are like a pussy cat in comparison."

I clenched my fists as he spoke.

"What the fuck did you just call me?"

He smiled, sitting on the bed I had just stood from.

"You heard. I probably would be more terrified if a mouse scuttled into the room right now. I don't like them." He shudders. "Ew, rodents."

My mouth gaped open.

"Are you for real? Or have I been smoking drugs? I genuinely have no idea what I am doing giving the time of day to a guy in a hideous suit who calls me a cat. A fucking cat."

I shake my head, running a hand through my curls.

To my dismay, he just laughs.

"Yes, I'm real. My suit is awesome, and we need to discuss certain things. Now sit down, and let's get on with it. I have other places to be today Mr Anderson, and you are wasting my time."

I grudgingly sit next to him. We might as well get this shit over and done with so he will leave me alone. He smelt good. He smelt clean. It sounded ridiculous, but he had forgot what being clean smelt like. Hard soap that turned your skin red raw was the only thing he had had for the last twelve years. Maybe being outside wouldn't be so bad. Maybe the first thing he would buy would be some shower gel. And shampoo. That would be a luxury.

_**There were strangers everywhere in my house. I couldn't move for strangers. They were all here to mourn his Dad. The funeral had been the worst experience of his life. I just couldn't believe my Dad was gone. That I would never see him again. And all these people, why did they care? I had never seen them before in my life, so how did they know my Dad? They were all fake.  
I looked over at Cooper. My big brother had taken the death worse than we could have imagined. It had been ten days since the awful news, and he had taken to staying out til all hours , worrying Mom sick. **_

_**To make matters worse, my Mom had become a shadow of her former self. In a matter of ten days, she was thin and gaunt, she could hardly stand for longer than five minutes without wanting to collapse on the nearest chair. I pleaded with her to get one of her colleagues at the hospital to check her out, but she wouldn't listen.**_

_**It was only three days after the funeral and I had returned back to school. It had been hard, all the whispering, all the pitying looks, but I got through it. I knew Dad wouldn't have wanted me to chuck my education away. As I fumbled for my keys in my backpack and opened my front door, I knew something was up. I could smell it in the air. My heart sunk like stone as I shut the front door quietly, knowing that something awful lay in wait for me.**_

_**I discovered I was right as I walked into the kitchen and saw my Mom passed out cold on the floor. Beside her lay a smashed plate that had contained the sandwich she had probably been making for my return, just like she always did. Even as she lay there, passed out, her hand lay on her side, as if she had been clutching it before she fell.**_

_**I dialled the emergency services with shaking hands. They told me to feel for a pulse or any signs of breathing, I couldn't . I just stood there, staring, until the ambulance came and took her away. They said she was still alive. I travelled in the ambulance with them and when at the hospital, sat in a cold , blank waiting room while they worked on my Mom. During this time, I kept trying to phone Cooper. I had no luck. I tried everyone he knew that I could remember , but nobody could help.**_

_**Valerie, a kindly nurse who must have been in her fifties, walked into the waiting room. I had always liked her, Mom and her were good friends and she would sometimes bring cakes over that were delicious. She had curly blonde hair and wrinkles, and she looked devastated as she walked in.**_

_**She took a seat opposite me and I stared at her, my eyes wide with fear.**_

_**"Oh my God, Val… Is she… Is my Mom…. ?"**_

_**She shakes her head sadly, and reaches over for my hands. She took a sniffling breath and looked at me seriously.**_

_**"She's… she's alive sweetheart. I uh… listen. You are thirteen. Just thirteen." She shook her head again, a bitter smile forming on her face. "I just need you to be brave for me Blaine. You have already been through so much and what I am about to say isn't easy."**_

_**I raise an eyebrow in question, I knew I couldn't speak. My voice would have betrayed me.**_

_**"We had all noticed your Mom hasn't been herself for a while. She tried to shrug it off, but we knew. We work in a hospital sweetheart. We knew the signs. She had a massive shock with your…. With…. With your poor Dad, and it has made her worse. After running some tests tonight, we discovered what we thought we knew. Your Mom has cancer sweetheart. From what we can conclude, she has had it for a while, it has spread. There is nothing we can do."**_

_**I open my mouth to speak, shaking my head from side to side.**_

_**"No… no. That's not possible. No she doesn't. She was… she was fit and …."**_

_**Valerie looks at me with her sad eyes, and clutches my sweaty hands harder.**_

_**"Come on sweetheart, you know that's not true. You know she hasn't been feeling right for a while. Even without the massive shock you have all just had, she would have still been seriously ill. The shock of losing your Dad has made her weaker, no doubt about it, but it was only a matter of time before her body gave out on her."**_

_**I shake my head frantically now, tears forming in my eyes.**_

_**"No, you said there is nothing you can do. That's a lie. People get cancer. I know they do. But not my Mom. And if she has then… there are treatments, there are things you can do. She wouldn't get this bad this quick"**_

_**The sweet woman wipes a tear away from her rounded cheeks.**_

_**"All we can do now Blaine, is make her comfortable. I am so sorry. She could have days. She could even have weeks. Or, and I am so sorry to be blunt, she might not even make it through the night."**_

_**I stand up, my jaw set in determination.**_

_**"I have to see her. No offense Val, I know you are only trying to give me the facts, but I don't believe it. She will recover from this, I am not losing another parent."**_

_**She stands up with me, pity in her eyes, and leads me to my Moms room. I stare at her as she lay on the bed, her body full of wires.**_

_**Despite my determined speech to Valerie ****about my Mom recovering, it was no use. I stayed in her room for the next 78 hours, until she took her last breath. The only time I left was to go the toilet. Of course I had frantically tried to phone Cooper, but despite my frantic pleas for him to return, he was no where to be found. Work mates of my Moms kept bringing me in food and liquids, all with pity and sadness in their eyes whenever they saw me.**_

_**I will never forget my Moms last words to me. It was exactly six hours and thirty two minutes before she died. Time mattered to me in that hospital room. I memorized every minute. Her eyes fluttered open, like they had done a few times since we had been here**_.

_**Her breathing was laboured as she tried to speak, the effort almost tearing her in two. **_

"_**I'm so- so….."**_

_**More gasps for air. It was painful to watch, knowing I couldn't ease the pain.**_

_**"So… s-sorry for leaving you like this."**_

_**I grabbed her hand, tears streaming down my face. It was the first time I heard her speak since I found her on the kitchen floor.**_

_**"Mom, it's OK . Rest. We can talk later."**_

_**Her eyes widened, she looked terrified.**_

_**"No- Blainey days. Listen to me. I'm sorry. I'm so… sorry for leaving y-y-you."**_

_**She gulped in a huge lungful of air.**_

_**"Your b-brother is not… he's not strong like you. Promise me you will-you will look after him. Promise me."**_

_**One of my tears fell on to her hand.**_

_**"I promise Mom. I love you."**_

_**She squeezed my hand, then slipped back into her sleep. It was strange, because I knew it was the last time she would speak. It was the way her face was now peaceful. I watched her for the next six hours and thirty two minutes, and she looked content.**_

_**In the space of a month, I had lost both of my parents. I was a thirteen year old orphan.**_

I shook my head , trying to banish all thoughts away. I tried to focus on this Kurt Hummel as he rambled on about courses and meetings and so on. He made me sign a load of papers, and said that he would be round at least once a week. Every Tuesday, at seven pm , I was to expect him.

I honestly couldn't figure him out. He seemed so… I don't know, he just did not fit into this world of convicts and bad guys. What on earth made him do it? Maybe he was getting paid shit loads of money.

He started packing all his papers away in the briefcase, then looked up at me with an amused gaze.

"Well, you are a talker. I didn't think I would get you to shut up for a minute."

I stare at him blankly. His skin was ever so pale. I briefly had the realisation that if we had met under ordinary circumstances and if I wasn't a monster with no heart, I would probably quite fancy this Kurt Hummel.

He stands from the bed when he realises I'm not going to answer him.

He steps out of the drab room , and turns back to me, that grin appearing on his face again.

"So Mr Anderson, see you on Tuesday. Or who knows, we might bump into each other before then."

I take a cigarette from my pocket, lighting it up. I really didn't care for small talk. He frowned.

"They are bad for your health you know."

I shrug my shoulders.

"So was having my head smashed against a prison wall weekly by some tattooed thug, but I survived it."

A brief look of horror crosses his face before he composes himself.

To my astonishment, he pulls the cigarette from my mouth and throws into the parking lot down below. Before I had a chance to give him a black eye, he runs down the steps with a cheery goodbye.

I walk back in to my room, lighting another and scowling.

I hadn't much wanted to punch Kurt anyway, even if I had just lost a precious smoke because of him. My life was joyless enough, I didn't see how it would help hurting people like that. Kurt was everything I wasn't. Kurt Hummel was one of the good guys.


	3. Chapter 3

**Losing Control**

**Chapter 3**

By the time Monday morning come round, I was grateful. I had spent a few days in the shitty motel room, going out of my mind with boredom. In the prison, there had been routine to the days. You got up, you had breakfast, showered, did the work you were assigned to do, had lunch, more work, had dinner, had 'free time' which usually involved trying to avoid being beaten up, then lights out. The days had structure to them . Now I had nothing. So I was actually pleased that Monday meant forcing myself off the uncomfortable scratchy bed and into the rusty shower so I could get ready for my first day of courses.

I scrubbed myself raw with the harsh bathroom soap, then used a small drop of shampoo for my hair. I had ventured out once over the weekend to buy more cigarettes and shampoo. Even the cheapest bottle was expensive, so I would have to make this last.

I had been living on a loaf of bread and a packet of biscuits for the last three days, I couldn't afford anything else. My stomach growled, and I knew I had to eat something before I set off, but I couldn't face another slice of bread with nothing on that had started to go stale anyway. I grabbed the last three biscuits from the packet and shoved them down my throat in record speed.

Then I picked out my best pair of jeans and a white shirt. The jeans still had stains over them from the prison work that no amount of washing would ever get out and a hole on the back of the right leg, my T-shirt was frayed at the bottom, but they were still my best clothes. I ran a hand through my damp curls, thinking to myself that I really needed to get a mirror at some point. If I had to be out and about everyday, I needed to not look like a homeless man.

I grabbed the books I would need for the day, and put them in the plastic bag I had used to carry my belongings from prison here. I didn't have anything else to put them in. Hell, I didn't even have a cup to drink from, I just stuck my mouth under the tap when I was thirsty , so a bag was the least of my worries.

I walked out into the early morning sun, shutting the door behind me but not locking it. It didn't matter if anyone broke in, I had nothing to take anyway. They were welcome to the shitty things I called my own.

I surprised myself at just how well I remembered these streets. I knew exactly where I had to go, and walked along almost on autopilot.

As I crossed the road opposite the building I would be spending the next year in learning about pointless stuff, I nearly got hit by a cycle bike. A fucking cycle bike. I cursed at the rider loudly, trying to keep the memories of years ago at bay. It didn't work. The more I tried not to think of things, the more they came back to haunt me.

_**I grabbed my cycle bike from the garage and raced to the address that had just been shouted down the phone to me.**_

_**Cooper was in trouble, again. **_

_**How did my life end up so shit? Where had it all gone wrong? Well, the obvious answer was my parents dying of course.**_

_**Sometimes, I couldn't help but hate them for this. For leaving us like this.**_

_**It had been nearly two years since they both died. I was fifteen now and a complete loser. I could be honest about it, I really was. I had no friends, no point to my life, no nothing.**_

_**Just after my Mom's funeral, some fancy pants lawyer with a shiny bald head had come round to inform Cooper and I of some great news. **_

_**He actually said something along the lines of… 'Boys, the bad news is you lost your parents, the good news is, you get to keep the house.'**_

_**He actually said it like it was a prize. Like we would rather keep the house than have our parents breathing. He was a complete douche.**_

_**It turned out that my Mom and Dad had left the house to Cooper, for now. He had been over eighteen when they died, and was therefore somehow entitled to it. The Will stipulated that I was to be joint owner when I turned eighteen, and that we could do what we wished with it**_.

_**Also, on the fucking bright side, I would never see my parents again, but they had left us some money to get by. It mostly went into Coopers account, but apparently it was enough to get us both by until I was eighteen and could finish my schooling and find a job.**_

_**The Will had only been updated a month or two before Mom's death, which had made me even more certain that she had known she was dying. She was a nurse, she must have realised something was seriously wrong with her.**_

_**The authorities had let me and Cooper be, Cooper was pretty much now my official guardian, which was a joke. I spent more time looking after him, keeping his nose clean and running the house than he spent watching out for me, his brother who was a minor.**_

_**The situation with Cooper had gotten so bad that I had actually had to drop out of school. I knew my parents would have been disappointed in that, I had continued to be an A star student even after the deaths, but I had no choice.**_

_**It took all my time worrying about my big brother that I didn't have time for anything else. Every time I felt I wasn't doing enough to watch out for him, my Mom's dying words would always come back to haunt me. I had promised her, on her deathbed, that I would look after him.**_

_**And I was doing a fucked up job of it so far. He had got involved with the wrong crowd and every night there was some sort of drama. Cooper had drunk too much, Cooper was off his head on drugs, Cooper had shoplifted. There was always something.**_

_**One of Coopers old school friends had just phoned me to say he knew that Cooper was planning to burgle a house tonight. The rumour had been going round for a few days now and he thought I should know. All his old friends had watched sadly as Cooper merged into this horrible down and out. I needed to get there and sort it out. It was a step too far now.**_

_**I decided that as soon as I had persuaded him to not do it, and come home with me, that I would phone someone, anyone… for help. Cooper was out of control and I could no longer deal with him.**_

_**My lungs and legs were aching by the time I reached the address.**_

_**I threw my bike down and ran to the back of the house. It was dark, and hopefully empty so nobody would hear the commotion.**_

_**I saw Cooper and two of his 'friends', or rather, thuggish companions, all dressed in black. I tried not to feel the stab of pain as I realised I hadn't just lost my parents two years ago. I had lost Cooper as well. I looked at him now, and I didn't even know him. It was like he was a monster.**_

_**I walked up, trying to keep my breathing steady. All three turned to face me.**_

_**"Cooper, don't do this."**_

_**His two friends laughed loudly while he stared at me , he looked baffled by my presence.**_

_**"Get out of here little brother." He didn't say it in a friendly way. His voice sounded cold, devoid of any emotion. "This is nothing to do with you."**_

_**His friends had started to close in on me, Cooper just stood there, pretending not to notice.**_

_**"I'm not going anywhere until you come home and we can sort this out. Think of them Cooper. Don't make them frown upon us."**_

_**He roared with laughter at this. He actually clutched his belly as he laughed. One of his friends sneered at me. The other spat, I tried not to look as it landed next to my shoe.**_

_**"Them? You mean our parents? Some parents they turned out to be."**_

_**I clenched my fists in anger.**_

"_**Don't say that. Don't you fucking dare say that Cooper."**_

"_**Aww, little Blainey days is still a Momma's boy even after two years of her being six foot under. Face it shitbag, they were useless. Get out of here."**_

_**My eyes were burning with tears that I would never show these morons. I stood my ground, staring at him.**_

_**One of his huge companions spoke up. **_

"_**Come on Cooper, ignore this little turd and get on with it. The owners could be back soon."**_

_**I frown at this, my mouth falling open in shock.**_

_**"Wait. You can't seriously tell me you are going in there by yourself?"**_

_**The other friend growls menacingly at me. He might as well have been a zoo animal.**_

"_**Well we aren't going in there with him. He's the smallest, makes sense for him to do it. He owes us."**_

_**I see a flash of something in Coopers eyes. Fear? Guilt? I didn't know. I try to rise up to my full height and look the giant thug in**** the eye.**_

"_**There is no fucking way he's doing this. Get out of here before I call the cops."**_

_**I couldn't react even though I knew it was coming. It was like watching something in slow motion when you are powerless to stop it. I doubled over in agony as my stomach felt the full force of one of the guys fists. It felt like one of my ribs had just been cracked. I groaned in pain as one of them held me back, and the other took a swing at my face this time.**_

_**Great, a cracked rib and a broken nose. What the fuck did I do to deserve this? I tried to break free, but the guy holding me back was twice the size of me. I looked to Cooper for some help, crying out when I saw him running to a window of the house.**_

_**"Cooper, get back here."**_

_**I couldn't say anything after that as this time a fist connected with my jaw.**_

_**I could taste blood in my mouth. I watched in silence as Cooper disappeared into the house. Right now, I would have been better off with my parents. Rotting underground somewhere.**_

_**I didn't know how much time went by. Every time I tried to move, one of the brutes kicked or punched me.**_

_**It was only when we heard distant sirens they let me go and started running off into the distance. I ran for the house, desperate to get Cooper out before he was caught. **_

_**I climbed through the same window he had, and had only got as far as the kitchen when I saw him, standing over a body. My hand flew to my mouth in horror. I felt bile in my mouth. **_

_**As I walked closer, I saw a heavy photo frame in Coopers hands, and an elderly man knocked out cold. **_

_**My heart broke at the guy on the floor. He looked so scared, even unconscious. His face just looked like terrified. I looked at the picture in the photo frame Cooper was holding. It was a picture of the old man and a couple of young children, all smiling happily. His Grandkids no doubt. **_

"_**What the fuck have you done?"**_

_**Cooper jumped as he stared at me, his mouth open in shock.**_

"_**I… I didn't mean to."**_

_**At that moment, I cut him from my heart. He was no longer a brother. He was a monster who hurt innocent people. He couldn't be saved.**_

_**Cooper jumps again as he hears the sirens, they were a lot closer now. Police sirens. He looks at me, his eyes wide with fear.**_

_**"We have to get out of here."**_

_**I scoff, wincing as the movement hurt my battered body.**_

_**"Are you insane? We need to get him some help. Call an ambulance. Now."**_

_**He dropped the photo frame and ran towards the open window. He wouldn't leave surely? I knew the answer before he had even climbed out of the window. He was a stranger.**_

_**I watched sadly as he grabbed my bike, and with one last guilt ridden glance at the house, cycled off as fast as he could. **_

_**I ran back to the old man, my hands shaking as I grabbed the phone on the counter top, dialling for an ambulance. **_

_**Before I could even speak into the phone, I was being handcuffed and led away by two burly policemen.**_

I tried to shake the bad memory away. That was the last thing I wanted to think of right now. All I wanted to do was to get these shitty courses over and done with so I could get on with my pitiful life.

I pushed open the door to the building hard, making it slam against the wall as I walked in. The receptionist cast me a scathing look as I walked to the desk.

"Blaine Anderson. Here for Math and Media Studies." My voice still sounded croaky when I spoke. It would take some getting used to.

She gave me a map, and pointed to a corridor, telling me to follow it all the way down.

I seemed to be early, the place was really quiet, that was how desperate I was to be in some sort of routine again.

I got through Math without falling asleep. I had done enough of that over the last few days. It was the only way to escape the thoughts in my head.

At lunch, I went out of the building to have a much needed cigarette. I didn't have anything to eat, I had decided to just get something for dinner later instead. I needed every spare penny, I was very nearly out of smokes.

I stood on the sidewalk outside the building for a full hour, just watching people go by. It was a luxury to me. I had seen the same people day in , day out for years, and now I had a chance to look at other people. It was a weird feeling.

At one o clock, I made my way back into the building to find the Media Studies class.

I happened to be the first one in this class room. I sat at the back, leaned back on a chair and closed my eyes. If I could do twelve years in jail, I could get through a year of boring classes. At least I hoped so. So far, being outside seemed harder than being locked up.

"Ah. Mr Anderson. How nice to see you again."

My eyes opened wide as I recognised the voice. I watched as Kurt Hummel walked into the classroom , and sat on the 'teachers' desk. Today he was wearing a bright red T-shirt with grey skinny jeans. His hair was as perfectly styled as the other day, and he was beaming at me as he swung his legs back and forth on the table.

I frowned at him as I sat up straighter and ran a hand through my hair. He seemed to make me feel grubby. He was too clean. Too pure.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

His smile didn't falter.

"I'm teaching the class of course. I told you we may bump into each other now and again. What else would I be doing here?"

I sighed and sunk back in my chair.

"You have got to be shitting me."

Kurt Hummel jumped off the desk, and walked to the white board. He never broke eye contact with me.

"Less of the language Anderson. And don't come to my class again stinking of smoke. I told you the other day, It's bad for you."

I shrugged, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you care?"

His answer was a knowing smile. I couldn't understand what the smile meant. It infuriated me. I was just about to ask what he was smirking at when the class started filling up. I realised I better keep my mouth shut or risk getting kicked out of the crap courses and the dive of a motel. And really, I needed both to get my life back on track.

Still, at least with Hummel in those tight grey jeans, I had something nice to look at for the next few hours.


End file.
